The rustling came again. Quick now. Right on us.
Something lunged at Dax, and he dropped low with a grunt.
“Oh my God, Dax!” I shouted, moving towards him, until my eyes fell on the culprit. Laughter escaped me before I could stop it.
“You again,” I said, crouching to scratch the ginger cat under its chin.
Dax was still on the ground, rubbing at a deep scratch on his arm.
“A friend of yours?”
“Sort of,” I said, sitting cross-legged on the grass while the cat hissed at Dax. “I keep telling him I’m too young, but he’s persistent. We should clean that up.” I gestured at the deep gouge on his arm.
“It’s a scratch,” Dax said, trying to tug his sleeve lower to cover it.
“And I’m a people person. Plus, who knows what could be all up in there looking at that scraggly excuse for a cat.” I poked at the scratch, and Dax recoiled his arm towards his chest.
"Let me see!" I said, wriggling closer. Raised lines already surrounded each of the three large claw trails as I inspected them under the torchlight of my phone.
"What's the verdict, nurse?"
"I doubt an amputation’s necessary," I replied, enjoying the feeling of his toned arm in my hands. "Needs a clean ASAP in my unqualified opinion, otherwise we may not be able to save it."
Dax smiled, leaning back on his other hand as the cat began rubbing itself against him. Apparently, they were friends now.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said, wincing as I slapped his raised skin. "Ow!"
“Couldn’t help myself,” I said with a grin, blowing softly on the scratches. His arm stilled. So did his breath. His brown eyes locked on my lips, and the darkness was back again.
My pulse thudded.
“Where’s your first-aid kit?” I whispered. All the blood that worked the muscles in my throat seemed to have moved to my pelvis.
“In my hiking kit at home,” he whispered back.
I traced a finger gently along his arm, enjoying the effect as his dark hair stood on end.
“What kind of cop forgets their first aid kit but remembers beer?”
He cleared his throat and looked down. “One who’s not working tonight.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he echoed.
My eyes flicked to his mouth. He searched my face, and then gently placed his other hand over mine, stilling it. The evening went quiet except for his ragged breath and the pounding in my ears. His face hovered close, his breath warm against my cheek.
Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned in, letting my lips meet his. He jerked back for a second before his mouth hungrily pressed back into mine and his arms snaked around my waist.
That arm placement would have taken me to my knees if I weren’t already there. Time stood still as our mouths moved together, our tongues finding their own rhythm. Something clinked in my chest like it did with Taco, although in an entirely different way. Something was falling off the armoured shelf, and I gasped at the unexpected warmth that filled its place.
Dax’s pressure on my lips softened as he moved one of his hands behind my ear and stroked the sensitive skin. The sensation was so care filled that I stilled, my lips breathing on his, our mouths a whisper apart. He didn’t miss my reaction, and he brought his other hand up to cup it around my cheek, his thumb gently stroking my bottom lip. An uncomfortable pressure pooled inside me as his dark gaze shifted from my mouth to my eyes and back again. Lines filled my forehead as his lips brushed mine again, softly this time, before he pulled away.
I didn’t want him to stop, but I couldn’t stop the growing urge to run.
He ran a hand down the back of my hair, curling a strand around his finger before letting it fall.
“Perfect,” he whispered, eyes taking in every detail of my face like he was trying to imprint it forever into his memory.
